


LP4 - "Gloomy Sunday/Smile"

by MovesLikeBucky



Series: Wasteland Jukebox [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, POV Alternating, Pre-Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: Sofia could barely speak for her sobs.  She tried to tell him everything Kellogg had said but hiccupping through it made it all come out wrong.  To his credit, he got the general gist of what she was saying.“So, the Institute has him,” he said, “That’s not ideal, but we’ll still find him.”  He held her tight as she cried into his chest.  He stayed steadfast as the weeping turned to screams and then back again; all the way until they subsided down into ragged, hiccupy breaths.“I want to go home,” she said, “I can’t stand this place, I don’t want to be here anymore.”----Preston climbed the hill, following Dogmeat, until they reached the operators trailer and the giant elevator.  Sofia had told him about it, but he hadn’t been there to see it yet.  He knew this was something extremely private for her, and he wouldn’t dream of trying to find it without her.  She never seemed too keen to return anyway.  He thought for a moment he shouldn’t follow her down there; but his worry won out in the end.





	1. Gloomy Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 5! As always, thank you for taking the time to click that link! I just want to reiterate, as it is in the tags, but this part will delve into both Sofia and Preston's suicidal thoughts; not super deep or explicit, but it is mentioned and is the main meat of at the very least chapter two, so I just wanted to throw that out there. Enjoy!

_Angels have no thought_

_Of ever returning you_

_Would they be angry_

_If I thought of joining you?_

([Gloomy Sunday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUCyjDOlnPU) \- Billie Holliday)

  

_Cold _…_ s-s-so c-cold…_

Sobs wracked through Sofia’s body.  After everything that had happened, she ended up back here. Back in the vault.  She laid curled up on the cold steel floor in front of Nate’s cryo-cell, and she wasn’t really sure how long she’d been there.

However long it was, she’d downed almost two bottles of Bobrov’s. 

All of that effort, all of that searching, and for what? Nothing.

No answers.

No retribution.

No Shaun.

Nothing went as she had expected, and everything had gone so terribly, terribly wrong.

She honestly wasn’t sure how Preston could still respect her at all after what she had done and what she had said.  Some General she was turning out to be.

 

////

Dogmeat had tracked Kellogg by the shitty cigars he smoked. He had holed up in Fort Hagen, not far from Sanctuary.  She didn’t like him being that close; felt like being watched.  Preston was by her side, just like he said he would be.  She couldn’t have done this at all without him.

They fought their way through waves of genwuns.  Her, Preston, and Dogmeat; a formidable team. Fort Hagen was huge, and it was a large undertaking.  Kellogg’s voice over the loudspeakers just drove her hatred further.

Sofia had never been this angry in her life, and if she had doubted her ability as a mother, that righteous fury was beginning to make her feel that at least her heart was in the right place.  Every word she heard Kellogg say made her furious.  This _inhuman_ monster who took her baby from right in front of her and killed the man she loved without a second thought.

He was going to fucking pay.

“If it isn’t my old friend, the frozen TV dinner,” he had said over the speakers, voice booming around her and Preston as they took out the artificial defenders, “Never expected you to come ‘round here.”

“Is that the guy?” Preston had asked.

“Yeah, that’s the bastard,” Sofia replied, “He’s wrong though, he should’ve always expected me to find him.”

Preston had grinned at that.  Neither of them had known what was coming next, things seemed to be going smoothly and according to plan.  The simple fact, though, was that Sofia was out for blood and she was going to get it.  No matter what it took and no matter who she hurt.

She didn’t pay much attention to anything Kellogg said after that.  Her rage was blinding her to the point of deafness.  She didn’t even notice she had been separated from Preston until she was already at the chained door to the offices.  It was just her and Dogmeat now.

No time to wait, this was going to end _now_.  One way or the other.

She heard Kellogg order the genwuns to stand down.  When she heard the chains fall, she raised her shotgun and opened the door slowly, and entered.

There he was, she’d recognize the face anywhere. Flanked by genwuns, all armed to the teeth.  Did those things even have teeth?

Kellogg had his pistol holstered and his hands up.  “If it isn’t the most _resilient_ woman in the ‘Wealth,” he said, “Let’s not be hasty. You wanna talk, I’m ready to talk.”

“Where in the _fuck_ is my son!” She couldn’t control her volume if she wanted to.  Sofia didn’t think of herself as an easily angered woman, but this man was on her death list.  Dogmeat lowered his head, barring his teeth, growling furiously.

“Right to it then, huh?” Kellogg shook his head, “Okay, fine. Have it your way.”

“Where is he?!” Sofia yelled, keeping her shotgun aimed at Kellogg’s head.

“The short answer,” he shrugged, “Not here.  He was a good kid, and he’s being taken care of. I’m sure he’s a bit older than you expected, or maybe you figured that out already.”

He put his arms back down, no longer feigning any kind of fear. This just pissed her off even more. She _needed_ him to be scared of her, and she hated the fact that he obviously wasn’t.  Dogmeat kept growling, letting out the occasional snarling bark, fur standing on end.  He was feeding off of her anger, channeling it towards Kellogg just like she was.

“Look, lady,” he pulled out a pack of those shitty cigars and lit one up, “I feel for ya, you’ve earned the right to know where he is, there just isn’t anything you can do about it now that he’s there.”

“If you don’t tell me in the next five _fucking_ seconds where the hell my Shaun is,” she cocked her shotgun, “I’m going to make sure there’s so much of you splattered around this _fucking_ room that no one in a million _fucking_ years could piece you _the fuck_ back together!!”

“Jesus, woman, watch your mouth, what the hell?” He put his hands back up again, “Let me get to my fucking point.  Your boy is at the Institute now; couldn’t ask for a better place to be in this shithole of a world.”

Sofia faltered slightly, her hands shaking.  She gripped the shotgun tighter, trying to steady herself. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks, and she was taking long breaths that hissed through her gritted teeth. She didn’t want to admit what she already knew was true.

“Take me…to my son…right the fuck now.”  She could hear the loud bangs of Preston’s laser musket coming down the hallway.  Dogmeat was still growling and barking.

“Lady,” he said, “You have got to calm the fuck down.  _No one_ knows how to get into the Institute, not even me.  Your son is safe, you should be happy about that.  Your time for him is done, let it go.  You probably would’ve been a good mother, but the wasteland was never gonna let you have that chance.  The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can move on.  From the rumors I’ve heard, you’ve got a good thing going.”

“Do you not get it?!” Sofia screamed at him, waving her shotgun wildly, “I don’t care!  I don’t give a single shit what this place will…what the fuck… _allow_ me to do!”

 “Well, that’s too bad,” He sighed, “I really do feel for ya, but I’m done talking. Let’s get this over with.”

He drew his pistol and the genwuns followed suit with their own weapons.  Sofia fired wildly with her shotgun as Dogmeat attacked and dismantled a few of the older synths.  Kellogg had activated a stealth boy, which made things difficult, but not impossible.

A lot of things are easier when you have explosive shotgun shells.

She could hear Preston shouting from the hallway but couldn’t make out what he was saying.  Her fury was too intense.  A few red laser bolts flew past her, aimed at the genwuns, as she fired at anything she remotely thought might be a shimmer of Kellogg passing through her sights. 

Finally, a good connect with the shells, and he was down. His leg busted; completely crippled. Kellogg crawled backwards along the ground using his elbow, a last-ditch effort to get away.  He was still firing his .44 but missing horribly.  Shattered leg bones make it difficult to concentrate, even for seasoned professionals.

Preston finally caught up, out of breath.  The genwuns had been disposed of, and Dogmeat now ran over to Kellogg and ripped the .44 from his hand.

Sofia walked slowly, methodically, towards him.  It was over now.  He was unarmed, gravely injured.  The bleeding alone would kill him in an _excruciatingly_ slow fashion.  But she wasn’t going to give the world the satisfaction of that.  No, this was all hers.

This was for Shaun.

This was for Nate.

This was for the last of her hope that had been extinguished mere moments ago.

“You’re never gonna find him, you know,” Kellogg laughed at her as he winced at the pain in his leg and hand, “You can only find the Institute if _they_ want to find _you._ All of this, for nothing!”

“Not for nothing,” she grinned at him, but it wasn’t a smile, no, it was much darker. 

Pure…unadulterated…malice.

The grin of a madwoman, wronged by the world she never asked to be a part of.

She could see Preston out of the corner of her eye, watching her. That didn't matter, she would have her blood.

Sofia strapped her shotgun to her back while she stood over Kellogg and pulled out Callahan, her own trusty .44.

“This is gonna hurt you so much more than it hurts me, bastard.  In fact, I’d wager this is gonna feel fucking  _great_ for me.”

She unloaded all six shots, one after the other, directly into his head.  When she was done, she just stood there, the gun shaking in her trembling hand.

“Sofia,” Preston cautiously approached her, “Are you ok? Did he tell you where they took Shaun?”

She balled up her left fist and squeezed her eyes shut. These tears were gonna come whether she liked it or not, but not without a fight.

In one quick motion she grabbed another six bullets from her belt and shoved them into the cylinder.  She screamed as she unloaded those into what was left of Kellogg’s skull. She kept cocking back the hammer and pulling the trigger, even after no bullets were left.  The only things left in Callahan were her failures; and she desperately hoped that if she just kept pulling the trigger she’d be able to kill the thought of those as well.

She could feel Preston and Dogmeat watching her, but she didn’t care anymore.  She didn’t even notice Dogmeat cowering and whimpering behind Preston’s legs.

“Sofia.  Sofia!”  She couldn’t even hear him, all she could hear was Kellogg in her head over and over.  “ _The wasteland is never gonna let you have that chance.  The wasteland is never gonna let you have that chance.”_ Each time it repeated in her head, another nonexistent bullet was fired, she screamed louder, and more tears streamed down her face.

_**“GENERAL!”** _

That got her attention.  She stopped and looked down at Kellogg, or what was left of him, horrified. She could feel the wetness of her face, soaked with tears.  She turned and looked to Preston and Dogmeat.

Dogmeat was still cowering, albeit a little less, and he wasn’t whining anymore.  Preston, however, looked like he’d just seen a herd of Deathclaws.

Sofia fully realized the extent of what had just happened. She hadn’t just killed Kellogg, she had completely _demolished_ him.  In the most violent way she could in that moment.

Just like that, she couldn’t hold it anymore.  The tears flew freely as Callahan clattered to the floor, loud sobs racking through her body.  Her eyes stung, her chest hurt, her head was reeling.  Preston was at her side almost instantly, pulling her into his arms, letting her cry it out.  Dogmeat was leaning against her legs, whining softly in concern.

“Sofia, hey,” Preston said in a soothing voice, “Hey, just tell me what happened.”

Sofia could barely speak for her sobs.  She tried to tell him everything Kellogg had said, but she was hiccuping through it to the point it was incomprehensible.  To his credit, he got the general gist of what she was saying.

“So, the Institute has him,” he said, “That’s not ideal, but we’ll still find him.”  He held her tight as she cried into his chest.  He stayed steadfast as the weeping turned to screams and then back again; all the way until they subsided down into ragged, hiccupy breaths.

“I want to go home,” she said, “I can’t stand this place, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Preston nodded, and they made their way out of Fort Hagen, just in time to see the Brotherhood of Steel’s massive airship coming into view. Sofia just stared at it, wondering if it were possible to will something into combusting just by hating it enough.

Given the track record of the day so far, she didn’t place much hope on that.

 

////

Sofia and Preston walked back to Sanctuary in relative silence. Save for the occasional bark from Dogmeat or an offhand comment on the surroundings by Preston.  She couldn’t speak at all for fear of the tears coming again.  Sofia had been holding it together so well, she had _almost_ started to think she might be okay.  It was obvious to her now that she was very much the opposite of that.

She kept several paces ahead of them.  There were questions she knew she needed to answer at some point, things she needed to process.  All she really wanted was to be alone with a little something to take the edge off.

She liked hearing Preston talk, but couldn’t bring herself to join in.  They crossed the bridge into Sanctuary proper.  She ignored the greetings from the guards posted at the small towers and kept heading into the main part of the cul-de-sac; straight for Sam’s place _._

After persuading Sam out of a couple bottles of Bobrov’s, she headed for the only place she could think of to go.  Preston had fallen behind her, smoothing things over with the settlers.  Sofia had made a bit of a scene at the bar when Sam hadn’t wanted to give her the moonshine.  She assumed Preston was trying to calm people down; not very often you see your de facto leader brandishing a gun at a bartender.  Preston was, more than likely, a bit mad about that, but Sofia didn’t care about that right now.  There was only one person in this entire hellhole she wanted to see.

She had told Dogmeat to stay with Mama Murphy.  He had become attached to the old woman when Sofia had to leave him in Sanctuary, and she had figured he’d feel better there than where she was going.  He was reluctant; kept following her a little ways and whining, bumping into her leg. At one point he even bit onto the hem of her jeans and tried to pull her back.  _He’s only a dog,_ she told herself, _he doesn’t know why I have to go, he just knows I’m upset._

She finally convinced him to stay behind and continued on her way up the hill.  The elevator was still working, albeit barely.  In her sadness and anger she didn’t fully register how much it shuddered and creaked on its way down.

Sofia made her way back through the still-freezing facility back to the cryovault she came out of.  _Home sweet home,_ she thought to herself. She braced herself to see him again; and mentally chided herself for not coming back sooner.  This vault was essentially his grave and she’d never been back to pay her respects since leaving.

 _No twenty-one-gun salutes at the end of the world, darling_.

She sat at the desk at the end of the room, not ready to face him, taking deep swigs from the first bottle of moonshine.  She didn’t want to tell Nate she had lost their son, even if he was too dead to care.  Arguments replayed in her head that seemed so trivial now; how she was working too much, how he didn’t want their son to grow up with an absent mother.  Her work was difficult and took up quite a bit of her time, and that had become a point of contention in recent months.

Well, ‘recent’ was relative in this case.  She heard his voice in her head.  _“You’re never home; you went back to work as soon as they cleared you!  Did you even_ want  _us to have kids at all?”_

He hadn’t meant it, she knew that, but it had stung all the same.  And sure, when they found out she was pregnant, she hadn’t been ready.  But dammit from the first time she heard his tiny heartbeat she loved that little boy, and she would’ve done anything to make the world safer for him.  Even if sometimes Nate didn’t believe that.

Sofia sighed heavily and took one more long drink for courage.  She walked over and sat on the floor in front of his cryochamber, not wanting to open her eyes.  When she finally did, the emotions hit her like a tidal wave once again.  She wasn’t sure exactly _what_ she had expected, but she knew it wasn’t that he’d still be fully intact.  He wouldn’t decay in cryofreeze; hell, she hadn’t.  But seeing him, bullet in his head, brought back all the pain and anger of her first month out of the vault.

“Well, darling,” she started before taking another long drink from the bottle, “Sorry I’m just now stopping by, I know it’s already February.”

She forced herself to look at him, “I lost our kid.  I’m the worst mother ever, just like you always thought I was.  I can say that to you now, you’re not here to defend yourself.  Wish you were, though.”

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she kept talking.

“I killed the bastard that killed you, bet your _upstanding_ parents wouldn’t have liked that.  Or they would have, I don’t know.  Don’t really care much anyway.  Gotta give him credit though, he didn’t beg or plead, just accepted his death.  Another soldier I’d guess.”

Sofia took out the pack of cigarettes she always kept in her back pocket, and lit one with a shaky hand, taking a long drag.  Her entire body was buzzing with a volatile mixture of anger and sadness.  She let the smoke out slow, trying to anchor herself.  She heard grinding metal in the distance but chalked it up to the ground shifting around the vault.  These things were built to last, but not to last forever.

Maybe it would collapse and just fucking bury her here, but she didn’t think she’d get that lucky.

“The way the Commonwealth is now is really something, darling,” Sofia took another drag and tapped her foot on the steel flooring, “Nothing like anyone would’ve thought.  End of the world, yet humanity is still kicking somehow.  I’m still kicking somehow.”

She stopped to take another swig of moonshine; then she thought better of herself and took three instead.  She could feel the tipsiness starting to set in; Bobrov’s was powerful shit. It was also the only thing she could stand out here, a lot of the leftover alcohol from her time had gone bad and didn’t taste anything like what she was used to.

But good hooch was good hooch, whatever time you were in.

“Oh yeah,” she said, almost spitting out her moonshine, “I started drinking again.  You’d just _love_ that!  And smoking, too, ha.  Remember how long it took me to quit cigarettes?  And the only thing that helped was the booze, and then I had to quit that, too?  I think I did alright, not many people can say they got their 200-year coin, can they?”

Sarcasm, her first line of defense.  And she was trying to defend herself against a dead man right now. She heard more noises in the halls but chalked it up to the radroaches that infested this place.  They didn’t go to cryovault storage; too cold for them there. She could drink to her heart’s content and if they decided to show up, well, that’s what she had the shotgun for.

“You know, Nate,” she took another drag on the cigarette, “It really should’ve been me.  I should’ve died, you should be out here.  You probably would’ve been able to find our son, no one would’ve been able to stop you.  You wouldn’t have stalled for over three months galivanting about the whole Commonwealth doing who-knows-what while our son was God-knows-where.”

The tears fell slowly as she stared into the face of her dead husband.

“I wish it had been you.  I wish I didn’t have to do this,” she took another drag, “I don’t think I can much longer.”

She swirled the bottle, watching the tiny spinning vortex it created in the bottom.  She couldn’t decide if she wanted to break down or if she wanted to punch somebody. She could honestly have gone for both.

“I don’t want to do this anymore," she broke down fully, her eyes giving way to the floodwaters they held, "I miss you, and I miss Shaun.  I don’t think I have any more strength left.  I don’t think I can go on anymore.”  Sobs wracked through her body as she admitted what she’d known to be true for weeks now, “Nate, I don’t want to be here, I just want to die.”

She sobbed quietly to herself, letting her own words hang in the air around her.  She’d felt that way for a long time now, just had never put it into words. The crossroads Sofia had just thrown herself onto was a significant one, and she wasn’t sure which path to take right now.

Her sobs were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.  Unmistakably slow and deliberate steps that, after the past four months, she would know anywhere.

“Hey, Cowboy,” she quickly wiped the tears from her face, smudging her charcoal liner slightly, “Don’t think I don’t hear you sneaking around over there.”

“I’m sorry, Sofia,” Preston said as he entered the room, “I was worried about you, so I followed you.”

“Well,” she said, spreading her arms to gesture to the room around them, “Welcome to my own personal hell.”

“It’s definitely…something?” Preston said after a few minutes of awkward silence.

“It’s a piece of shit,” Sofia said as she took a last drag from her cigarette.  She tossed it to the side and immediately replaced it with another.

Preston stood in the doorway, not meeting her eyes and looking rather uncomfortable.  Neither of them said anything for a bit, as Sofia continued nursing her moonshine. Maybe if she didn't say anything he'd take the hint and leave.  She didn't want anyone to be here right now, especially not him.  

“Would you…mind some company?” He asked, “Can’t imagine it’s fun to be back in this place.”

“Might as well,” she said harshly.  She had been enjoying her privacy and her one-sided conversation with Nate.  “You’re already here anyway.”

Preston sat down on the floor next to her, but she couldn’t help but notice he still wouldn’t look at her.

“Look, I know things didn’t go the way you wanted,” he said as Sofia scoffed at the remark, “I know you need some time, and I want you to take all the time you need.  But this stuff, it can eat you up if you have to face it alone.  So just, don’t?”

Sofia looked at him sideways, a scowl on her face.

“I mean,” he continued, “I’m not saying it has to be me or anything, but there are a lot of good people you’ve made an impact on, Sofia.  _Talk_ to them, lean on them, or on me, or whoever.  Just don’t bottle it up, okay?”

Sofia laughed, “That’s some big talk coming from you, Garvey. The veritable king of aloofness.  We’ve been traveling and running the Minutemen together for how long now?  And you won’t fucking talk to me about anything deep, so why should I talk to you about my problems?”

“That’s not fair,” he said, looking at the ground, “I don’t tell you about my bullshit because you have enough of your own to deal with.”

“Yeah, sure,” she took another drink, “Nah, you just don’t trust me.  That’s fine, I just lost my son, again, for the second god damn time.  I don’t trust me either.”

“Sofia,” he shifted so he could look her in the eyes, “I know you know it’s not like that.  All I want to get across right now is that anything is better than…well…than that.”

“Better than what exactly?” She asked him, slightly confused.

“What I mean to say is…” he was stumbling over his words, which just confused her more, “Dammit, Sofia, what I’m trying to say is just don’t!”

“Don’t _what?_ ” she was getting impatient with this whole thing.

“Don’t…just…don’t kill yourself or anything like that, ok? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was actually about to leave, but then I heard you say that you wanted to die, and…well…I…I don’t know, I couldn’t just let you sit here and feel that way, I guess?”  He looked at her, eyes full of concern.

“Don’t see why it matters,” said Sofia, tilting her head back and getting the last drips of moonshine out of the bottle.

Really she just wanted him to leave; him being here just reminded her about what she'd worked for the past four months.  Whether she actually went through with anything or not, she wanted to do it on her own terms.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you right now,” Preston said, “But it matters to other people.  To Sturges, to the Longs, to that reporter you met in Diamond City.  If nothing else, it matters to me.”

“Yeah, can’t bring the Minutemen back without a fucking General, right?  Go help this settlement, let’s go recruit this one.  Gotta build more fucking beacons, gotta recruit more people. Gotta do this, gotta do that. Gotta have anyone else do it but _you_."  She regretted those words almost immediately, but in her current state she couldn't control it.  All she wanted was to fight.

“I know you’re drunk right now,” Preston said, looking hurt, “So I’m gonna assume you don’t _really_ think that’s the only reason you matter to me.  Because after everything that’s happened since Concord, I would hope there’s no way you could think that.”

“And what if I actually do?” Sofia shouted at him, “Does that matter either?  Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t!  There’s plenty of people around here for you to pity; personally, I don’t need it!”

Preston shook his head, “You’re serious right now?”

“As a fucking heart attack.”  She was lying.  Sofia just wanted to fight somebody right now, and Preston was unfortunately the closest. She could hear the words leaving her, but she couldn’t do anything to stop them.  “Honestly I’m sick of it!  I’m sick of this town, I’m sick of everyone and everything around here!”

Preston sighed and stood up.  “I’m going to ignore what you just said, because I’d really like to think I know you better than that.  But you obviously don’t want me here, and I never should have intruded.”

She could hear the hurt in his voice, and she felt her defenses break just a little.  He pulled his hat down low and started to leave, stopping in the doorway.

“Just, please, don’t do anything crazy.  And for the record,” he turned to look at her, and she heard a crack in his voice as he spoke, “I’d never pity you, you’re too strong and damn sure don’t need it from the likes of me.”

And with that he was gone, and Sofia hadn’t realized just how alone she could feel.  She cracked open the other bottle of moonshine, hoping her memories and regrets could drown in this one.  Not that the first one had helped much, but she’d keep trying.

He was wrong, she wasn't strong.  She was a runner.  Running from this problem, running from that problem.  On and on and on until they finally caught up.  

 _Too strong,_ she thought,  _Ha, that'd be the day._

She _was_ drunk though, that part was true.  That wasn’t an excuse; she was always so damned hard on him.  She didn't want to care, but she was past pretending.  She felt the loud sobs start to bubble up as she took long gulps of the moonshine, willing it to numb her to her feelings.  To how much she missed Nate, to how she felt like a failure as a mother, and to how she just handled things with the one person who she knew truly cared about her.

She’d driven him away; and for what?  For the ‘satisfaction’ of a fight.  All she wanted was to be mad and he had been caught in the fallout.

She curled up on the hard steel floor, the same place this journey had begun.  Still so cold, still so uninviting.

She finally let it go.  Tears, screaming, heaving sobs, all of it.  Better out than in, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

This was the end of the line for her now.  No point to it all anymore.  Everything was for nothing.

 

////

Sofia stayed there for hours, drinking her moonshine until it was gone.  Once that was gone, she just smoked in silence; the stillness broken by the occasional hiccup from her.  So many regrets and so little time.  She looked up at Nate, frozen still in his pod.  Preserved for as long as the coolant systems could hold out.

“I love you, you know that?” She said to him, hoping that somewhere in the ether he was listening.  “I love you so goddamn much, and you infuriate me so goddamn much, and that’s probably why I loved you in the first place.  But as much as I miss you and as much as I’d like to join you, I just can’t.  You’d be surprised the kind of people you meet out here.”

She smiled, and that was a nice feeling after the events of the past day.  Preston had said it would be good to talk to _someone_ right?

“I’ve met so many people, all of them just trying to survive. It’s not fun out there, dear.  In fact, it’s hell.  We used to think war was hell, I dunno about that anymore, I think this might be worse.  War was purgatory compared to this.”

She finished the last of her cigarette and flicked the butt of it towards the other end of the room.

“There’s a lot of good here, though.  Good people, doing their best to make things better.  I’m trying to help, the best that I can.  My new friend, Preston, he made me General of the Minutemen.  Yeah, so that’s a thing.  Can you believe it?  Of all the things; a revolutionary war style militia.”  She smiled again and felt a slight flush come to her cheeks as she continued, “You’d like him.  He’s a good man, just like you were.  He watches my back, and I know you’d appreciate that.  And unfortunately, as much as I’d like to join you, I don’t think I could leave him that way.  I don’t think I could leave the Minutemen that way, it’s been too rewarding to watch them grow.”

Sofia kept talking, telling Nate the stories of her adventures.  Talking just to talk, just to feel better.  The more stories she told, the more people she told him about, the more she knew that it just wouldn’t be worth it.  She was angry, sure.  Devastated?  Definitely.  She was still very, very far from okay. 

But this was the first step.  She cried again, in fully earnestness.  She needed to let it out, needed to stop trying to bottle it in.

The consistent hum of the cryochambers eventually lulled her to sleep, they were the only sound left in the vault save for the occasional ragged breaths coming from her as she slept.


	2. Smile

_Smile though your heart is aching_

_Smile even though it's breaking_

_When there are clouds in the sky_

_You'll get by_

([Smile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0Hi-ZKAKMo)\- Nat King Cole)

 

Preston was starting to worry; Sofia hadn’t said a word since they left Fort Hagan.  He had been trying to start conversations to no avail.  Her walls were completely up and he really couldn’t blame her for that.

Killing the guy who murdered your husband could do that to a person.

Her steps grew faster as they crossed the bridge into Sanctuary and he almost struggled to keep up as she made her way to Sam’s place.

“Hey guys,” Sam said as they climbed the stairs into the bar area, “What’ll it be today?”

“Two Bobrov’s,” Sofia said abruptly.

“Coming right up,” Sam replied, a little taken aback.  He took out two glasses from under the counter, “Odd, I don’t remember Preston being much of a Bobrov’s guy.”

“I’m really not,” Preston said, “I don’t think either of them are for me.”

“Drinking heavy tonight then, eh little lassie?” Sam smiled at Sofia, but she didn’t smile back.

“No, no you misunderstood me,” Sofia stopped him, “I want two _bottles_ , like entire bottles, of Bobrov’s.”

“You sure about that, miss?” Sam said, looking concerned, “Bobrov’s is some bad stuff.  I can’t really just _give_ it to you in good conscious, you can drink as much as I can give you here though if you want.”

“Ok, we still aren’t getting each other here,” Sofia said as she took out Callahan.  “I want two bottles of Bobrov’s,” she slammed the gun on the counter, “And I want them _now._ ”

The others in the bar started to notice the commotion.  It was a slow night, just the Longs, Sturges, and Sarah, the weapons trader.  Still, enough people to make it a bit of a scene.  Now they were all staring at Sofia and Sam, waiting to see what happened next.

“Sofia, maybe you shouldn’t…” Preston had started to say before being cut off.

“Not the time for your morals, Cowboy, I need a fucking drink.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Garvey, really,” Sam stammered as he grabbed the two bottles off the shelf, “If that’s what she wants I’m sure she can handle it.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Sofia smiled in a notably forced way at the barkeep, “Always a pleasure.”

She nodded at the settlers staring at her, then stormed down the steps with Dogmeat at her heels.  All Preston could do was stand there; he couldn’t make his feet move to follow.  She was taking this harder than he thought.

“Sorry about that, Sam,” he said to the bartender, “She’s had a…bit of a rough day.”

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Sam replied, “She’s done enough for me; giving me a job here, away from the craziness of Diamond City.  If she needs to have a bad day, let her have one. Gun ain’t loaded anyway.”

Preston picked up the pistol and popped open the cylinder; sure enough, no bullets.

”How did you know it wasn’t loaded?”

Sam shrugged, “Just knew, that’s all.  Gotta wake up pretty early to pull a fast one on ol’ Sam.” He chuckled, “Place is enough of a hell as is, can’t blame people for being off their rocker occasionally.”

“What the hell happened out there?” Sturges said as he approached them, “That was more than a little out of character for Sofia.”

“Ha,” Marcy chimed in, “Only out of character if you’re _blind._ Always knew she was a bitch.  This just proves it!  How can you trust someone to run the Minutemen if she’s gonna go around threatening bartenders when she needs to whet her whistle, Garvey?”

“It’s not like that, Marcy,” he started, “We found the man who killed her husband and took her son today.  Things didn’t go very well.”

“Oh no,” said Jun, “I guess everyone deals with things in their own way, just hope she doesn’t mess herself up too much.”

“Let her mess herself up all she wants to,” Marcy continued, “Can’t never trust a vault dweller, too damn coddled.”

“Marcy you know damn good and well she wasn’t coddled in that hell vault she came from,” said Sam, done with people arguing in his bar, “Now she’s a damn good woman, helped all of us in one way or another, never asks for nothin’ from it.  You leave her alone, now.”

Marcy just glared at the barkeeper; she’d had a chip on her shoulder about Sofia from the start.  Preston knew she’d been _dying_ for something like this to happen, anything to prove her right.  But since no one seemed to be in her corner on this one, it was just making her angry.

“I should probably follow her,” Preston said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in.

“Ha, yeah, go ahead and follow her,” Marcy said, “ You always do, wherever and whatever she wants.  We can all see right through that, Garvey.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.  Marcy just shook her head.

 _Shit,_ he thought, _I’m not that transparent, am I?_

“Look, friend, we all know ya care about the Minutemen,” Sarah said with her thick accent, “Ya gotta make sure the leader don't get herself in some kinda trouble.”

He noticed Marcy roll her eyes.  If nobody else had caught on, Marcy had.  Not that there was anything to really catch on to; they were just friends, and unless Sofia decided to pursue more than that, they would stay that way.  His feelings weren’t part of that equation.

“Everybody out here is having traumatic experiences every day,” Marcy said, “If she can’t handle herself better than that…well… _something_ different is gonna have to happen.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Preston said, “In the meantime, just…don’t worry about it too much?  I’m sure she’ll be fine and that this was an isolated incident.”  He picked up Callahan and left.  He made his way toward the ramshackle building she called a home on the edge of the cul-de-sac; too many memories had forced her out of her old house.  But she wasn’t there, and it didn’t look like she’d even stopped by. He left her gun in the house and checked some of the other buildings around town, but Sofia was nowhere to be found. 

The whole thing had been so crazy; he’d never seen her like that.  The anger…no…the outright fury.  Preston hoped to whatever God there was that he never ended up on the receiving end of _that._ She’d almost seemed possessed, if that was the right word.  Nothing left in her but fury.  He hadn’t even known you could break a skull down that much with just bullets.

There wasn’t time to dwell on that right now, he needed to find her.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong again, and if it did he didn’t want her to have to face it alone. 

He was searching along the stream and was about to give up when Dogmeat came bounding towards him.

“Hey, boy,” he said, kneeling down to scratch behind the dog’s ears, “Where’d she go, do you know?”  Dogmeat barked and started away from him, towards the hill overlooking the town.

 _Of course,_ Preston thought, _she didn’t mean ‘home’ as in Sanctuary, she went back to the Vault._  

The one place he wouldn’t have thought to check on his own.

He climbed the hill, following Dogmeat, until they reached the operators trailer and the giant elevator.  Sofia had told him about it, but he hadn’t been there to see it yet.  He knew this was something private for her, and he wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near it without her.  She never seemed too keen to return anyway.  He thought for a moment he shouldn’t follow her down there; but his worry won out in the end.

“You stay here, Dogmeat, keep a look out for me, ok?”

Dogmeat let out a soft bark and took up a position overlooking the town.  He really was a good dog, and Preston often wondered just where on earth a dog like that came from out here, where most dogs were mutated mongrels.

He hit the big red button and braced himself as the elevator started its shaky descent.

 

////

Preston hadn’t been sure what to expect when he got down into the vault itself; he had thought it might look like some of the old pictures of what houses and stores and things looked like before the bombs.

Instead he saw lots of metal, most of it starting to rust. Everything was sharp corners and edges; this was clearly never meant to be a place for people to actually _live_.  Even his tiny guard house was homier than this.  He could hear radroaches scuttling around in various rooms he passed, but they didn’t seem to notice him.

What struck him most was just how cold it was.  It made sense, cryovaults and all, but he’d never been this cold in his life.  Some of the old ghouls would talk about winters before the war, but the bombs had changed the atmosphere and made everything hotter.

He slung his musket on his back and pulled his duster tighter, crossing his arms.  How anyone could _want_ to be somewhere this cold was beyond him.

He kept his footsteps light, not wanting to stir up the radroaches.  Preston wasn’t sure if Sofia had brought a weapon or not, and he didn’t want to risk that. He couldn’t even begin to imagine waking up and seeing all of this; every room he checked was just more cryochambers with more dead people.  Preston hadn’t seen anything quite that morbid in a long time.   Finally, he heard her voice; she was talking to someone.

From the sound of it she was talking to her dead husband.

“You know, Nate,” he heard her say, “It really should’ve been me. I should’ve died, you should be out here.  You probably would’ve been able to find our son, no one would’ve been able to stop you. You wouldn’t have stalled for over three months galivanting about the whole Commonwealth doing who-knows-what while our son was God-knows-where.”

Preston’s heart broke as he heard her voice crack, and he felt a sense of guilt wash over him.

“I wish it had been you,” she said to her husband, “I wish I didn’t have to do this.  I don’t think I can much longer.”

She paused, her could hear her sniffling and it took everything in him not to start running to her, but he didn’t want her to know he’d followed her if he could help it.  Despite his worry pushing him onward, he felt like he was invading her privacy.  This was wrong, he shouldn’t have come here. Even if she didn’t know he was there, he was intruding, breaching her trust.  He turned to leave, embarrassed at himself.  This was the second time in as many weeks he’d let his emotions get the better of him when it came to her; first the dance while he was the Shroud, and now this.  He needed to get himself in check; Sofia is the General, .

“I don’t want to do this anymore," he heard her continue, "I miss you, and I miss Shaun.  I don’t think I have any more strength left.  I don’t think I can go on anymore,” he heard her sobs get louder, “Nate, I don’t want to be here, I just want to die.”

Preston stopped dead in his tracks and swore he could feel his heart stop; had she felt this way for very long?  How had he not noticed?  Had he been too wrapped up in his own thoughts of the end that he failed to notice hers?

Whatever the case, he couldn’t let her feel that way.  Any illusions he had of leaving here without her knowing evaporated.  He couldn’t run the risk that she’d do something tonight.

 _I can’t lose her,_ he thought before mentally slapping himself.  He shouldn’t be thinking things like that, she wasn’t his to lose.  He tried not to run as he followed the sound of her voice, now just crying to herself. He was almost at the door when she stopped crying abruptly.

“Hey, Cowboy,” she said shakily, “Don’t think I don’t hear you sneaking around over there.”

“I’m sorry, Sofia,” he stood in the doorway, feeling like an uninvited guest, “I was worried about you, so I followed you.”

“Well, welcome to my own personal hell!”  She clearly wasn’t happy to see him there, and he halfway thought about turning around and just leaving.  He saw the moonshine; one bottle was almost empty.  Maybe she’d forget he was there?

He'd never been the type to not finish what he started, and he'd started this by following her in the first place.  He intended to finish it the best way he could muster.  His fear of her intentions in this place, if she had really come here to die, won out.

“It’s definitely…something?”

“It’s a piece of shit,” Sofia said matter-of-factly.  He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and she clearly had no intentions of saying anything herself.  So, he stayed in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to come up with something.

He knew from personal experience, though, that there’s no magic words to make someone want to stay alive.  He'd tried that before, with some of the greener recruits back in the day.  Sometimes the job was too much and it ended in the worst ways.  He wouldn't let her end that way if he could help it.

Preston cleared his throat, “Would you…mind some company? Can’t imagine it’s fun to be back in this place.”

“Might as well,” Sofia answered, glaring at him, “You’re already here anyway.”

 _Yep, totally welcome here, this was a great idea,_ he thought.  But he wasn’t about to give up now, so he took a seat on the floor next to her.  He still couldn’t quite believe he heard those words come out of her mouth.  She was always so strong, practically unstoppable once she put her mind to something.  Between seeing her lose herself back at Fort Hagan and seeing her now at her lowest point; he was at a loss for what to say next.  He couldn’t even look her in the eyes right now. 

Preston chose his next words carefully.  He knew if she asked him to leave, he would without question.  He'd already intruded enough.

“Look, I know things didn’t go the way you wanted," he heard her let out an indignant huff of a laugh as he continued, "And I know you need some time, and I want you to take all the time you need.  But this stuff, it can eat you up if you have to face it alone.  So just, don’t?” 

Sofia scowled at him, and he felt like her gaze was burning a hole through him. 

“I mean, I’m not saying it has to be me or anything,” he took a deep breath, trying to get his point across in the nicest way possible, “But there are a lot of good people you’ve made an impact on, Sofia.  _Talk_ to them, lean on them, or on me, or whoever.  Just don’t bottle it up, okay?”

“That’s some big talk coming from you, Garvey,” she laughed sarcastically at him, he couldn’t help but notice her swaying slightly from the booze.  “The veritable king of aloofness,” she said, “We’ve been traveling and running the Minutemen together for how long now?  And you won’t fucking talk to me about anything deep, so why should I talk to you about my problems?”

“That’s not fair, I don’t tell you about my bullshit because you have enough of your own to deal with.”  She didn’t need to know about his demons.  Or what he kept hidden under his mattress just in case they got too loud for him to handle. 

His mistakes and his shortcomings weren’t her burden to bear.

“Yeah, sure,” she scoffed at him as she took another drink, “Nah, you just don’t trust me.  That’s fine, I just lost my son, again, for the second god damn time.  I don’t trust me either.”

“Sofia, you know it’s not like that.” He turned to face her, resisting the urge to take her hands in his.  He wanted to give her some semblance of comfort, but right now he wasn’t sure where the line was.  “All I want to get across right now is that anything is better than,” he stammered, “well…than that.”

“Better than what exactly?” she asked.

“What I mean to say is…” he started, but the words caught themselves in his throat before he could say them.  This was so much harder than he ever thought it could be.  Every time he tried to say anything all he could think of was her, dead and gone from his life.

“Dammit, Sofia, what I’m trying to say is just don’t!”

“Don’t _what_?” she practically shouted at him.

“Don’t…just…don’t kill yourself or anything like that, ok? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was actually about to leave, but then I heard you say that you wanted to die, and…well…I…I don’t know, I couldn’t just let you sit here and feel that way, I guess?”  If his words meant anything to her, she wasn’t showing it.  She still had that look on her face, making him feel guilty for even being here in the first place.  Which was deserved, he thought.

“Don’t see why it matters,” she said flippantly, looking away from him.  As she finished the last drops of her moonshine, he swore he could feel his world crumbling.  He hadn’t even realized she'd felt this way and it shook him to the core.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you right now, but it matters to other people.  To Sturges, to the Longs, to that reporter you met in Diamond City.  If nothing else,” he sighed, “It matters to me.”  He was practically repeating things that Mama Murphy and Sturges had already said to him; even they didn’t know the extent of his thoughts.  No one did but him.  No one needed to.

“Yeah, can’t bring the Minutemen back without a fucking General, right?” Sofia snapped at him, catching him off guard, “Go help this settlement, let’s go recruit this one.  Gotta build more fucking beacons, gotta recruit more people.  Gotta do this, gotta do that.”  She jabbed a finger into his chest, “Gotta have anyone else do it but _you_.”

Preston didn’t know where to start with that.  Did she really think all of that?  After everything they’d been through…he just couldn’t believe it.  It had to be the volatile mixture of sadness, alcohol, and anger talking.

“I know you’re drunk right now, so I’m gonna assume you don’t _really_ think that’s the only reason you matter to me,” he said.  “Because after everything that’s happened since Concord, I would hope there’s no way you could think that.”

“And what if I actually do,” she shouted at him, “Does that matter either?  Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t!  There’s plenty of people around here for you to pity; personally, I don’t need it!”

 “You’re serious right now?”  He was so sure she didn’t mean it; but the pain she was inflicting right now made him want to be sick.  He’d never been hurt like this when people were pissed at him before, why was this different?

“As a fucking heart attack!”  She snapped at him, “Honestly I’m sick of it!  I’m sick of this town, I’m sick of everyone and everything around here!”

Preston stood up, he wasn't helping; just making her angrier.  He’d worn out his welcome here.

“I’m going to ignore what you just said, because I’d really like to think I know you better than that.  But you obviously don’t want me here, and I never should have intruded.”

Preston made his way to the door, stopping for a moment. He couldn’t leave it like that.

“Just, please, don’t do anything crazy.”  As he turned to look at her, he noticed her eyes had softened, “And for the record, I’d never pity you, you’re too strong and damn sure don’t need it from the likes of me.”

He stood there for a couple of seconds, just in case she had changed her mind.  Her eyes weren’t boring holes thought him anymore, but she kept silent.  If she wanted him to stay, she damn sure wasn’t going to say it.

So, Preston turned and left, not letting his own tears fall until he was on the other side of the wall.  He had to trust that she’d work through it on her own, this was one thing he couldn’t save her from.  She’d have to do that herself.

He wasn’t going to leave yet; he couldn’t.  Preston sat at a table in a room further down the hall where he could still hear her.  This was as far away as he could go until he knew she was safe.  Shaun was still out there somewhere, and she couldn’t find him if she was dead.

He took a moment to reflect on his own want of death that had been with him since Quincy.  The hopelessness that had gripped him for what felt like ages.  The knowledge that, at any time, he could eat a bullet and be done with it.

Much harder with a laser musket; first you have to crank it, then it has to be positioned just right, too much work for something that should be fast.  Back on the road, before Concord, he had tried once.  But by the time the musket was ready, he’d lost his nerve.  That was part of the reason he always refused the traditional weapons she tried to give him, especially if they were pistols. She didn’t like laser weapons, and could never understand his affinity for them.  He always guised it as personal preference, there wasn’t a reason to tell her the truth.

He had known she had been running, just like he had been. Running from her own demons and her own sadness.  She had been distracting herself doing everything for him and the Minutemen and nothing for herself; and Preston couldn’t help but feel slightly responsible.

She made the voices stop.  The ones that told him everyone would be better off without him, that the deaths and failure at Quincy were all his fault.  She made him want to keep living, keep going.  He had monopolized that, kept her close so he wouldn’t be haunted.  It didn’t stop the thoughts from coming at night; that’s what the 10mm under his mattress was for.  A quick way out if he decided he really needed it.  Inevitably, any time he actually felt low enough to pull it out, thoughts of her stopped him.  Thoughts of her smile, her eyes, her determination in helping anyone who needed her. She was everything he had never dared hope to find in this place, and now he knew for sure she was just as broken as him.

He had known that she had her own reasons, her own monsters hiding in the dark corners of the bunk shacks and in the places where campfire light couldn’t touch.  But he felt he should’ve said something sooner.  The only reason he could point to for not saying anything was his own selfishness.

 _And for what,_ he thought, _now she’s in there wanting to die and I can’t even do anything._ He couldn't hold it back any longer, and his tears fell silently down his face.  Things had been so different with her in his life, and the thought of it without her was more than he could bear.

She didn’t need his pity, he had never pitied her.  He’d only ever admired her.  Her strength in her situation was remarkable.  Compared to what he had been through, he didn’t feel the events even compared.

Ever since he and the settlers had left Quincy, he’d felt like a coward.  Like everything was his fault, and he alone was left to carry the consequences.  Like it was some divine punishment for daring to believe in the good of people.  How could he possiblypity her from where he was?

He took his hat off and ran a hand over his scalp; he was exhausted, but he wasn’t going anywhere.  They both needed to make it through the night.

 

////

Preston was walking across the bridge into Sanctuary as sunset was painting the sky in the most beautiful shades of purple and orange.  She was beside him, her hand in his.  They were going home, to _their_ home.  As they made it into town, she stopped.

Sofia pulled on his hand, bringing him to her, and he wrapped his arms around her.  She put a hand on the side of his face, which he’d happily leaned into, savoring her touch. She was looking at him with so much love and happiness, and he was looking back at her with the same.  He leaned in to kiss her, like he had so many times before.  He heard her voice, the sweetest and most beautiful sound his ears had ever known.

_“I love you, you know that?”_

But why did her voice sound muffled?

 

And just like that, he snapped awake.  He didn’t know exactly _when_ he had dozed off, but he’d been having the most amazing dream.

He could hear Sofia down the hall, that’s why it had been so distorted.  She was talking to Nate again.

“I love you so goddamn much,” she said, “And you infuriate me so goddamn much, and that’s probably why I loved you in the first place.”

Preston knew she must miss Nate like crazy.  He’d never really been serious enough about someone to even _think_ of devoting his life to them, but he imagined it must be like losing part of your soul.

“I’ve met so many people,” he heard her say, “All of them just trying to survive.”

It wasn’t exactly what he'd had in mind when he suggested she talk to someone, but he supposed it was talking at least.  She sounded like she was on the other side of her sadness.  He kept listening.

“My new friend, Preston,” his ears perked when he heard his name, “He made me General of the Minutemen.  Yeah, so that’s a thing.  Can you believe it?  Of all the things; a revolutionary war style militia.”  He heard her laugh, just a little, and he knew she had made it through, if only for now.

Sometimes, out here, ‘for now’ was all you could hold onto.

“You’d like him.  He’s a good man, just like you were.”  Preston felt his face go warm as Sofia talked about him.

“He watches my back, and I know you’d appreciate that. And unfortunately, as much as I’d like to join you, I don’t think I could leave him that way.  I don’t think I could leave the Minutemen that way, it’s been too rewarding to watch them grow.”

Preston smiled to himself at her words.  He listened for just a moment more while she told Nate about their adventures and the new friends she had made.  Now that he knew she was safe, it was time for him to leave. He had something very important that he had to do before the night was over.

 

////

Preston made his way to the small guard house he called home. It wasn’t much, just a tiny one-room shack near the guard posts at the bridge.  All it really had in it was a bed and a table, but it was enough. Sturges had helped him build it, and had almost insisted on making it bigger.  Preston had told him to save resources for more important things; all he needed was a place to sleep.

He went inside, flicking on the small lightbulb that hung from the ceiling.  He pulled the 10mm from underneath his mattress.  For a small gun, it felt heavy in his hands.  Heavy with his former intentions.

He left his shack and walked a little further up the road, to the house that Sofia was calling home now.  That’s where all the workbenches were.  He found the one he was looking for, with the vice grip and the torch.  After years of learning how to take his musket apart and put it back together, he figured this one couldn’t be much different.

He took out the small toolkit and dismantled his old 10mm. He’d had it since before he joined the Minutemen; it was a gift from his dad when he'd turned sixteen.  His dad had taught him how to shoot with it; those skills had helped him earn his spot among the Minutemen.

After the past several months, it didn’t have any happy memories to take with it anymore.

He left the dismantled pieces and screws in the bench.  Surely there would be a better use for those parts than what he kept attempting.  And if Sofia could make it through tonight, he damn sure could to.

And he'd make it through tomorrow night.  And the next one, and then the one after that.  On and on.  He could do that for her.  He  _would_ do that for her.

And that would be a good enough place for him to start healing.

 

////

He was talking with Gertrude, the shopkeeper at the general store, when he saw Sofia heading towards the center of town, Dogmeat trotting along right behind her.  Despite him telling the pup he could go back, Dogmeat had stayed positioned on the hill, right next to the elevator.  That dog had grown so attached to her.  Honestly, Preston couldn't blame him.

He saw her stop Sam on his way to his work; she must be apologizing for the scene the day before.  Sam just put a hand on her shoulder and nodded.  Preston was sure he was telling her not to worry, that he wasn’t angry.

Sam was a good guy; he understood things out here.  Couldn’t ask for better in a bartender, honestly.

Sofia made her way to the picnic table by the old chestnut tree, looking visibly drained.  She laid her head down on the old wood surface as Dogmeat curled up by her feet. 

“Looks like our girl made it to another day,” said Gertrude, smiling knowingly.

“Yep, looks like it,” said Preston, “I should check on her. Two full bottles of Bobrov’s is hell on a person.”

“Lucky girl with you watching her back,” Gertrude smiled at him, “You take good care of her now.”

“Always.  That's my job, isn't it?” Preston said with a laugh as he politely excused himself from his conversation and started walking towards the picnic table. 

Sofia looked up and saw him.  She smiled, a little halfheartedly.  He could see the dark circles under her eyes from here.  Drowning her sorrows might have felt better in the short term, but it must’ve made for a hell of a night.

“Penny for your thoughts, General.” He said as he smiled at her.

“Ugh,” she laid her head back down on the table, “You only call me General when I’m in trouble.  I was really hoping I had imagined everything from last night, guess I’m not so lucky?”

“No,” he shook his head and leaned down so he could whisper, “Sorry, can’t say that you are. But as I recall, I don’t have the authority to get you into trouble, General.”

“So you’re fucking with me?” She said, groaning; he wouldn’t be surprised if her head was pounding out of her skull.

“Maybe just a little,” he chuckled, “It’s kinda funny seeing the great and invincible Sofia laid low by her own hubris.”

“Fuck,” she spoke practically into the table, her forehead resting on it as her arms dangled, “No fancy words they make my brain hurt.”

Preston sat at the table next to her, keeping his voice low. Partially for her headache, partially because these secrets weren’t his to tell, and he didn’t want all of Sanctuary getting wind of what happened last night.

“Are you feeling better,” he asked, “I mean, besides the hangover?”

Sofia shot him a sideways glance.

“Don’t make me say it, Sofia,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “It was bad enough thinking about it.”  He felt himself relax when she smiled at him.

“I mean, I still feel a little hopeless.  I think most of it was the booze, but if that's lying under the surface I shouldn't dredge it up like that.  For now though, I'm fine.  Don’t worry, Cowboy,” she said, turning her head so she could look at him without taking her head off the table, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Never would want to,” he said, “Who else is gonna keep Marcy in line?  Sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.”

They both laughed at that.  Sofia’s face quickly fell into a frown.

“Hey, so,” she started, “I’m sorry about all that.  I didn’t mean any of those things, and I know I can’t exactly take them back now, but if I could I would.  You’re the first friendly face I met outside of that frozen hell and you didn’t deserve any of what I said.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Preston, “You made some good points, I haven’t really opened up much.  I hope you know that I trust you with my life; it’s never been a question of trust, more of a question of if I even deserve for you to listen.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sofia looked at him sideways, “Don’t get philosophical on me right now, Cowboy, can’t wrap my head around it.”

Preston sighed, “All I mean is, your burdens are so much heavier than mine, and I don’t want to pile more on you.”

“Idiot.” She scoffed at him.

“What?  What did I say?”

“Preston, you’re my best friend, the most important person in my life right now besides Shaun.  That’s what friends are for, to tell your problems to.  You’re gonna have to let me help you the way you tried to help me last night. But not right now, I need real sleep.”

Sofia groaned as she made herself stand up, and Preston diligently helped her over to her house.  They said their goodbyes and he went back to his morning patrol.

Preston couldn’t help but feel a spring in his step today; she had said he was one of the most important people in her life.  He couldn’t have asked for a higher honor. 

He knew he would tell her, sooner rather than later.  He had known for a long time now that he could trust her, and, now that he knew she wanted to listen, he’d share his secrets with her.  Some of it, anyway.

For now, he’d just enjoy this bit of happiness for as long as it lasted.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Every view I get on these just pushes me to continue and see this series through to the end!
> 
> Next in the series will be a nice fluffy LP to make up for how dark this one was xD


End file.
